


like a violin

by lambchops (lambmeat)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW Art, Orgasm Denial, Porn with Feelings, Trans Lúcio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/lambchops
Summary: Lucio was never for bad habits- avoided smoking, excessive drinking, unhealthy foods, etc. When it comes to bad people, however, he just can't seem to stay away from them. Maybe it was their charisma, charm, or the idea of a partner that was his antithesis.However, he didn't expect to catch feelings for an international terrorist he's been sent to fight, and he surely didn't expect him to develop something short of a crush on Lucio. It makes their jobs a lot harder.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	like a violin

**Author's Note:**

> words like nub, slit, cunt used for lucio

Seclusion wasn’t a top priority, not for Reaper. His word was final. Lucio often depended on luck not to be seen by others in the heat of their trysts. 

Fortunately, Lucio has managed to steer the desire-driven wraith towards a loading hanger before he was ‘captured’. It wasn’t quite a ‘capturing,’ as even though the Reaper was an international terrorist, it seems as though violating consent wasn’t something all that interesting to him. 

Even as Reaper did nothing to communicate what he was trying to do, it was fairly obvious to Lucio; sexual tension was a hallmark in their battles. Truthfully, it didn’t feel right if there wasn’t some level of cat-and-mouse in their skirmishes whenever their organizations pit them against one another. Glancing blows against private parts, maybe a cheeky squeeze where it can be afforded. It was a fun game to Lucio, and it seemed by the reciprocation and lack of maiming that Reaper also drew some enjoyment from it. 

Truthfully, did he think the Reaper was attractive? It was difficult to think about, as not only is the man entirely obscured aside from the shape of his figure and the few stripes of dark skin on his biceps, but Lucio’s mind throws up a mental block whenever he tries to envision the man as any sort of sexy. Lusting over a terrorist is strictly against all of his morals, but he couldn’t help the little coquettish smiles and lingering blush whenever the Reaper pins him just to scoff down at the smaller man and release him back to his team.

It bubbled over during a battle somewhere in Northern Europe, when the teasing was a bit more than Reaper could afford to stand that day. Thinking that he was hidden within an alley, he found himself more than surprised to be thrown to the ground with more haste than care before he felt a solid weight keep him down against the cobblestone. He loathed to admit that he enjoyed it more than he thought he would-- shockingly, the militant was gentler than expected. Those talons were kept to himself, and given the environment, being entirely out in the open as two highly recognized public figures, took it as slow as a lover.

He even helped him put his armor back on. Lucio blushes at the memory quite often because who wouldn’t? There are some men that he’s been with that have been far less courteous and mannerly.

So it became a routine— Lucio’s track record of coming back unscathed from skirmishes with the Reaper has earned him some credit. More often than not, he’d end up deployed specifically because it was evident he knew how to ‘handle’ the Reaper and not necessarily because he was important to his team. 

That was fine by him. In his own way, he was helping out— it was just rather unconventional. Drawing away Talon’s top mercenary was a viable counter to the sheer amount of damage output they delivered, seeing as the Reaper specialized as a tank break and well, without tanks, the entire team was easy pickings. 

It wasn’t difficult, keeping the Reaper out of the team fight. It became more of a coquettish game, only feigning the illusion of predator and prey and instead of hard to get. In the loading bay the musician has steered them into, he thinks he hears a laugh from the Reaper when he hoists Lucio up with large hands cupping his entire rib cage and up onto a conveniently sized box. 

Gentle in their terrifying glory, the talon tips tickle as he drags his hands away from the warm body. Instead, they drag down to his hips, thumbs pushing testingly against the fabric stretched across his crotch. 

“Don’t you rip that,” Lucio hisses, lurching out of his relaxed pose with a start. Lightly swatting the hand away, deterring the almost audible thought of tearing the fabric away, he doesn’t miss the feline-esque glint in the Reaper’s eyes as he tilts his mask up to glare at him. What he’s afforded is a sudden, brutal squeeze, the wide palms of the Reaper’s hands grab Lucio’s thighs in retaliation before the cruelty melts away into normalcy. 

“Easy, we got time,” Lucio says, reaching down to loosely grip the Reaper’s wrist. All he gets in return is a grunt and a single red pupil coming into view as the mask tilts appropriately. 

It’s always like that, a back and forth between cruel and unusual, and normal, domestic. Lucio sinks into the contact, leaning back against the crate and shifting his thighs open wider. 

Today edged into the odd gray area where they dance back and forth between fucking like rabbits and making love. Reaper obeys the implicit instruction to slow down for a minute but no longer. He makes it out as though he wasn’t rushing to get his dick inside the other man by casually undressing Lucio. 

His stomach quivers instinctually as those talons tickle the smooth plane, and his leg twitches with interest as the Reaper simply dips his claws into his waistline. Both of them notice, and Lucio averts his eyes. Reaper doesn’t talk, but he can hear it in the voice he’s constructed in his head: _“We aren’t in a rush, remember?”_

“Just hurry up,” Lucio mutters, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he feels himself starting to soak his boxers. There was no way to hide it, as the cotton of his underwear soaks up his slick and saturates his under armour leggings.

Taking notice, the Reaper hums in interest. Dragging one talon, blunt edge up, along the crease of his slit, he makes the young man jump and shiver. Making a fist and squeezing his thumb against his palm, he stops himself from trying to rut against his touch. 

“You’re teasing.”

“Mh-m.”

“Asshole.”

A red pupil swims in the darkness beneath the mask, glinting at him with amusement. 

Abruptly, the Reaper takes a hold of the reinforced spandex of his under armor and rips. The movement forces Lucio flat on his back as he’s jerked towards the end of the box, and he shivers as the cold dock air hits his most sensitive region.

“Wh- hey!” Lucio starts, mortified at the loss of not only his protective gear but his decency. The Reaper shows no intention of apologizing or even acknowledging the wrong he committed, moving to pin Lucio’s thighs to the crate.

Sitting up, Lucio tries to exercise the right to be angry over his shredded clothes, but before he can say anything else, he feels a shock to his system. It’s strong enough that he shudders and drops to his elbows, instead mumbling his irritation and resigning himself to the walk of shame later as the Reaper slides a talon through his slick.

Jumping, Lucio gasps as he feels the hollow underside of the dangerous claw butt against his cock, already standing at attention. In the empty bottom of the claw, the Reaper rubs his nub with the needle-sharp talon. It’s exhilarating, having just witnessed what those claws can do to reinforced, “tear-proof” material. To have it playing with his cock, teasing it so lightly, makes him moan shakily.

“C...careful,” he mumbles, watching as the Reaper’s gloved hand delicately stroked along his folds, pulling the breath out of him from the adrenaline alone. It was clear that he wasn’t listening anymore, not when he takes his thumbs and spreads Lucio open, drinking in the other man’s vulnerability and arousal with a pleased rumble. Lucio can feel the point of his talons right where he was most tender, and he doesn’t dare move a muscle even though he knows that the Reaper wouldn’t let anything happen to his toy.

‘His squeaky toy,’ as he put it once. He had his hand wrapped around Lucio’s throat, almost able to touch his index to his thumb behind his neck without cutting off his air supply. Lucio didn’t have the brain power to state his indignation at such a pet name, being light-headed with arousal and the threat of losing his breath. So it stuck.

Retracting his hand, he moves to grab Lucio’s. Replacing his, the Reaper layers his hand over the others, guiding him into doing what he wants. Sighing shakily, Lucio obliges and pushes two fingers into himself, slick enough already to accomplish that.

The Reaper purrs, watching him pump his fingers in and out of himself with increasing desperation. Without taking his eyes away from the sight, the militant pulls himself out and strokes himself to the sight of the smaller man stretching himself. 

Blushing furiously, Lucio can’t help but shy his gaze away out of embarrassment, feeling himself get even wetter at the sight of the Reaper getting off to him. It’s a perverted sight, seeing those clawed hands stroke his cock to full attention, until a drip of precum beads at the tip and he twitches in his own grasp.

Deeming himself stretched enough in his impatience, Lucio makes sure he’s fully leaned back before removing his fingers and spreading himself open for the Reaper’s enjoyment. The response he gets is more enthusiastic than he intended, the Reaper immediately releasing himself to grab ahold of Lucio’s hips and slide his cock through his slick. 

There’s no space for witty banter as Lucio guides the Reaper’s blunt cockhead to press against his hole, insistent and inevitable. Gritting his teeth, Lucio struggles to brace and relax simultaneously, as the Reaper holds his breath as well, pushing with utmost patience. He’s nearly fully over the younger man, hands planted beside his head for leverage as he stopped just to change angles and try again. 

“C’mon,” the Reaper growls. Except for the times in battle where he was shouting harsh commands, Lucio has never heard his voice. Hearing it purred to him and him alone, encouraging and quieted, makes him near light-headed. 

The Reaper can practically see the hearts in his eyes when he speaks. Scoffing, he flexes his hips forward once more, fitting into Lucio’s too-tight heat. The Reaper manages to pop the tip of his cock in. The sudden intrusion rips a moan from Lucio, and he squeezes the Reaper’s waist with his calves in a show of pleasure. 

“ _The-re_ you go,” the Reaper hums out, shallowly rocking his hips in and out while Lucio accommodates to his girth. The praise feels like a reward for managing to take him, and he drinks it up so eagerly. The rest slides in easily, eased by Lucio’s slick.

Just like every other time, Lucio can’t help it as he pants and squirms with the Reaper fully seated in him. The operative is not only big enough to fill him entirely, but he’s thick enough to stretch him out, making him ache so wonderfully that even without the Reaper moving, a moan slips out as he tightens around him, accommodating.

Reaching down, the Reaper presses his knuckle, the one part of his gloved hands that isn’t weaponized, against the base of his cock before massaging up and down the length of it. Lucio’s head falls back at that, the leg not pinned to the crate twitching and kicking out like a dog. Instinctively, he bares down on the cock inside him and raises his hips up into the stimulation.

“Work for it,” the Reaper hisses. Glaring up at him, Lucio tries to convey his frustration, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely destroyed, not to be teased. With the Reaper worshiping his cock, playing to its sensitivity, he can’t keep up the act of anger, and starts to lift his hips up and drop himself on the Reaper’s cock like instructed.

He feels like a livewire, bucking into his hand and impaling himself on his thick cock, whole body alight with energy. It wasn’t going to take much to get him off, he was already keyed up from the moment that he realized the Reaper was on this mission. From the angle he was at, he was hitting his sweet spot with each drop, and the Reaper didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon.

Peeking through his eyelashes, he finds the Reaper watching his cock disappear between Lucio’s legs. It made it even hotter, like he was putting on a show for the militant, and it encourages him to be rougher with his movements despite the ache in his legs setting in fast.

“I-I’m…” he whimpers, wincing as the white-hot coiling in his guts starting to expand and overtake him like an exploding star, “shit, wait--” As he feels the edge of his orgasm take ahold of him, his legs falter and his pace stutters to a frustrating stop just as he needs it most.

Without warning, the Reaper takes his hand away and instead takes a firm hold of Lucio’s waist. Swiftly taking over, he leaves no time for Lucio to lose the edge of his orgasm.

He starts a dirty pace, pumping into Lucio’s aching hole shallow and fast like a rabbit. Slamming into him, Lucio chokes on a groan and clutches the Reaper’s forearms for support as his orgasm crashes over him. The sound of their bodies reverberates in the empty warehouse, loud and distinct as each thrust jostles Lucio’s entire body. Whole body trembling mightily, he locks up as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Fucking the smaller man through his orgasm, the Reaper pulls out entirely with no warning. At the sudden loss of stimulation, Lucio finds himself bearing down on nothing but a ruined orgasm. It was maddening, how tantalizingly close he was to a mindblowing orgasm only to be robbed. Looking at the militant, frustrated, he realizes that the Reaper didn’t do it for nothing-- the edge of the crate was thoroughly saturated with Lucio’s slick, and stray droplets caught the light on the Reaper’s military armor. The Reaper smiles at him, pleased with himself for making the younger man squirt from what he can see in those beady red eyes.

He doesn’t even try to protect his dignity as Reaper presses against his slit again, wetting the tip of his cock with Lucio’s plentiful slick. The feeling of it catching against his empty hole makes him whimper, so quiet he thinks that it can pass for white noise except for the fact that the Reaper’s cock twitches against him and he repeats the motion again. He knows how desperate Lucio is, he can see it in how he nibbles on his lower lip and watches his cock disappear between his folds, his own throbbing.

Just grinding against him, coating his cock with Lucio’s cum, the Reaper adjusts the smaller man’s body to his liking; collecting both of his legs, he hooks Lucio’s knees over the crease of his elbows and tugs him to the edge of the crate.

They look at each other with Lucio now flat on his back, and there is a moment of palatable tenderness. The Reaper’s hands palm and squeeze his leg where he isn’t padded with metal plates as he stretches Lucio open again. It’s a silent sign of reassurance, of acknowledgment of the position Lucio was in. It wasn’t comfortable being railed on a wooden shipping crate in a random warehouse on a cold pier, but he was trying his best to make the most out of it.

This time, he moves on his own knowing that Lucio had stretched himself out enough not to worry. Chivalrously, he keeps a firm hold on Lucio’s legs to stop him from chafing against the rough wood with every hard thrust. Always the gentleman. Lucio would make a crack at it if he wasn’t already preoccupied with biting his knuckle to stay quiet.

He strokes slow, deep, and hard, just how Lucio has instructed him. It was delivered as a joke, back when Lucio was still uncertain if he would be maimed for telling the Talon operative what to do, that it’s “more romantic” this way. Whether the Reaper saw through his thin veil of humor or took it at face value, he listened then and remembers now.

Panting, the breath punched out of him with every thrust, Lucio rests a hand over his belly to feel the Reaper inside of him. It hit deeper than anything he’s ever comfortably taken, aching profoundly yet still making him reel with pleasure. It was too much and almost not enough at the same time.

His hand trails south, wanting to stroke himself off, only for the Reaper to nimbly catch his wrist and pin it to the crate. Lucio doesn’t fight it, accepting the silent instruction to work with what he’s been given and to be patient. 

“Fuck,” Lucio bites out, letting his head fall back against the crate with a thud, “please, it’s not enough- I— _harder_!”

Growling, the Reaper falters for just a brief moment, only long enough to adjust himself. Bracing his hands on either side of Lucio’s head, he digs his talons in deep. When he starts again, Lucio swears he can see stars as the Reaper starts to pound his cunt.

The box tipped with each thrust, and he can hear the wood splintering and protesting the abuse suffered under the Reaper’s talons as he focused all his attention on ruining Lucio. Certainly, he’s punctured the heavy lid of the wooden crate, as his hand gets caught when he tries to lift it and settle it elsewhere. 

Not that Lucio is cognizant enough to notice. Drool steadily dribbles from the corner of his mouth as each breath is punched out of him. He’s plucked like a guitar string, orchestrating a symphony of whines and moans as Lucio hangs on to the Reaper’s arms for dear life. 

“ _Take it_ ,” the Reaper growls, and Lucio doesn’t understand how but the pace gets even _rougher—_ his toes curl in their skates and he chokes on a single whine that gets interrupted with each thrust. 

“O-Oh go-d,” he mumbles incoherently, his eyes floating inside his skull as his sweet spot was abused with every other violent thrust. It’s as though he wasn’t just at the edge of an orgasm, but like he had shot past the mark entirely; his entire being was _burning_ with ecstasy.

Smiling lopsidedly, so out of it, Lucio moans brokenly as the Reaper’s pace breaks and stutters before he giggles. The Reaper only emits a heavy hum in his chest, a cross between a groan and a growl, as he straightens up. His talons tickle his ribs as they glide down his body to grip his waist, holding him firm. His pace now slowed, he pants in powerful sighs, staving off his own orgasm with a short reprieve. Buying time, ruining Lucio’s initial orgasm and denying himself, he was making the most with what they’ve got.

“Precious,” the Reaper says, and Lucio hiccups out a weak chuckle again.

“Talkative today,” Lucio beams. The Reaper rolls his eyes.

“I’ll stop.”

Lucio frowns, pouts more than anything.

“Evil.”

“Mhm.”

The little transaction has taken up most of the Reaper’s attention, all movements halting as they just stare at each other. The Reaper stands firmly hilted in Lucio’s perfect heat, content to just stare at the younger man where he lay. Face stained like mahogany wood with his blush, he peers at the militant through his green visor. Stealing a moment, he reaches down and taps the power button on the visor, ridding the obstruction even though he knows that he just limited their time together, turning off his GPS line and communications.

Still, it offered him the view of those deep, deep brown eyes, darker than the richest earth. So full of life, framed in the thickest lashes he’s ever seen on a boy. Like a fairy, of sorts. Something that belonged in the forest, shrouded in greens and blues and browns.

It’s a stark contrast to the Reaper, clouded in black and gray and red like an uncontrollable fire spanning miles. Not known for being kind or merciful, his only purpose was destruction yet somehow, he’s managed to grace the lush life on this particular being, so full of spirit and vitality, without tearing it down. 

Lucio made him feel controlled, without inhibiting him. He still burned hot at his core, his presence conveying a very dangerous energy, but Lucio managed to make him feel as though he wasn’t a pointless force of ruin. He swept across the earth, clearing for it Lucio and people like him to heal the scorched destruction. It made him feel important to the cycle of life, and being alive and thriving.

It was a painful and intoxicating feeling to feel important again, despite the way the Reaper has turned around and misconstrued his original purpose in a past life. Lucio was more addicting than any drug that he’s ever tried, and he doesn’t see a future where he’s stone-cold sober again.

“I…” Lucio mumbles, suddenly uncertain under the heaviness of their situation. Fixed in vulnerability under the Reaper’s intense gaze, he doesn’t know what to do. He refuses it, passes it around as humor, but he knows that what he’s been actively suppressing is mutual. Finding fascination in the other man, if he can even be called as such, he has slowly but surely built an image of domestication in the shadow of destruction. 

It’s something he’s denied himself any space to humor in his mind, offering no room for the notion to rent, yet seeing those red eyes soften around those hard edges cracks at his walls. How his talons are nothing but gentle, caressing his vulnerable body and only expressing intimacy in their sharp points. His black gear and imposing figure acts like a windbreak and screen from the world, offering him just a short reprieve from his life.

Lucio’s not comfortable falling in love with an international terrorist, just as the Reaper isn’t comfortable falling in love with such radiant life and goodness, but here they were.

Gently, the Reaper shifts and starts a delicate rhythm, just rocking into Lucio’s pliant body. Sighing happily, he shifts his legs to accommodate the Reaper’s body as he leans down, enveloping the other with his body. His heart jumps up into his throat as the Reaper moves to nuzzle his cheek with the blunt edge of his mask, and his hands come up to cup his jaw, warm palms flat against his neck.

Tentatively, his thumb nudges the mask, knocking it askew. The Reaper doesn’t do anything in protest, rather moving into the touch so the faux-bone mask moved out of the way. Lucio doesn’t hesitate before surging up for a searing kiss, desperate and careless. The Reaper returns the passion tenfold, groaning into the other’s lips as he starts to move his hips again. 

The edge of his orgasm wasn’t entirely lost, as the Reaper’s thrusts start to grow erratic and frenzied; slamming into Lucio hard enough to rip their lips apart as Lucio cries out. Drinking in the sounds of the smaller man, the Reaper doesn’t inhibit himself whatsoever. So close to finishing, it was no holds barred.

It’s too much. All it takes is ten seconds and Lucio cums, his cunt bearing down on the Reaper’s cock as his whole body locks up. Hitting too deep, too fast for him to hold on any longer, his eyes roll back as his climax slams into him. 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, as the Reaper takes it upon himself to prolong it for as long as possible until Lucio is babbling nonsense between low moans. 

When the other cums, the world stops around them as he pushes in as deep as he can. For just a moment, they’re still as they pant raggedly, the Reaper filling the smaller man with his cum. Ordinarily, Lucio wouldn’t be too keen on getting filled with the other’s load, knowing he’ll have to sit in the transport ship in uncomfortably agony, but this time he simply takes it with a weak moan.

That, and he’ll already have to figure something out to cover up. Not exactly thrilled about that, but he’ll find something. Feeling the Reaper’s load trickle down between his legs as he withdraws more than makes up for it. Empty, abruptly cold, but satisfied, Lucio slumps onto the crate and refuses to move. He’s not sure his legs work, to be honest. 

Talons sweep over the exposed skin of his thighs, and he shudders. Unlike usual, the Reaper doesn’t make for a hasty exit, even as gunfire draws near them as his team scouts for him. Rather, he stares down at Lucio silently, petting his body while the other catches his breath.

“You should go,” Lucio mumbles after a bit, shifting onto his elbows. Heaving a deep sigh, the Reaper nods, yet doesn’t move. The sweetened air of sex about them wilts just so, and Lucio frowns. “Hey, you have no right to be upset. You’re not the one walking away with his dick out,” Lucio says, trying for some humor to lighten the mood.

The reality is that it is becoming more and more painful to separate every time they come together, something they’ll have to face inevitably. As the Reaper’s shoulders bounce with a low chuckle, rumbling with amusement, he doesn’t think he’ll have the strength to for much longer.

With ease, the Reaper clips his armor back together, obscuring Lucio’s state.

“I’ll call them off,” he says placatingly, “wouldn’t want you to catch a cold from this.” The musician rolls his eyes and swats him with the back of his hand.

“That wet and _this_ wet in the cold are two different things, but…” Lucio offers a soft smile, “thanks.”

At the mouth of the street the pier warehouse sat on, shouts could be heard. The smile turns a little sad, and Lucio slides off the box with a stagger and a grimace.

“You keep out of trouble,” Lucio says, jabbing a finger into the Reaper’s chest. He doesn’t even sway, even though he gave it his all.

“You do wrong right, kid,” the Reaper says. Looking down at the smaller man, he reaches up and turns the visor back on for him. Ever the gentleman, righting what he messed up. At the first bullet to ricochet off the metal paneling of the building, the Reaper dissipates into a cloud of smoke, leaving the space before Lucio devoid of warmth.

Sure enough, as soon as he gets his legs to a functioning capacity and exits the building, the Talon operants are backing off per superior orders, leaving him to simply wait for the evac ship to cart his team away. The entire ride back, fidgeting in his abject discomfort, he can’t help but keep thinking of the particular fondness he saw in those beady red eyes glinting down at him.

Softened around the edges, heavy-lidded with something just short of adoration.

His heart flutters and he stifles a forlorn sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> shameless rarepair that i still don't understand why isn't more popular seeing as its the small/tall, good/evil trope.
> 
> art drawn by me :-) posted on my twitter (lambchopzs) with mcreyes art and some doodles here and there


End file.
